


Normal Is Overrated

by SKJC



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Demisexuality, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Shower Sex, nobody is fucking underage so don't @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9934733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKJC/pseuds/SKJC
Summary: Yuri discovers that Google isn't any better at interpersonal relationships than he is, but maybe the internet is useful for some things.Note: The rating is only for the epilogue chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in 10 years. My apologies in advance. Also, I don't actually use Snapchat. Or know anything about figure skating.

 

_“how to tell if a guy likes you”_

 

Yuri Plisetsky stared at the phrase he had just typed into Google. Why was he doing this, again? In his eighteen years on Earth, he had never given a shit about love or romance or even sex, teenage hormones be damned. Relationships were a waste of time. People in relationships were disgusting - especially Victor and other-Yuri. He shuddered at the thought. 

 

“If I ever end up like them, I hope I get struck by lightning,” he said out loud, disdain dripping from his voice even though no one was around to hear except his cat. She didn’t seem to care. 

 

He sighed, and contemplated his laptop screen again for a moment before clicking “Search.” 

 

The results weren’t much help. Smiling? Prolonged eye contact? He thought about that. Friends smiled at each other, right? He and Otabek saw each other in person so infrequently that most of their real-time interaction was on Skype. How do you even quantify eye contact over a webcam? He resisted the urge to kick his laptop off the bed and kept scrolling. Finally, he found an article that at least seemed to be aimed at guys. There were no ridiculous pictures of infatuated girls staring at bored-looking men on the page, at least. He started to scroll through the list.

 

**_Notice if he steals glances._** Well, Yuri thought, Otabek was usually the first person to “like” virtually every selfie he ever posted on Instagram. Maybe that counted. And he got plenty of notifications that Otabek had taken screen shots of his Snapchats. To be fair, his friend was notoriously bad at social media and might not realize that came across as a little odd. 

 

**_He wants to know all about you._** Well, yeah, that one was true. In the few years they’d been friends, Otabek had seemed pretty invested in knowing everything about him. They’d talked about their families, their childhoods, their pets, their hobbies (Yuri still had trouble believing that his straight-faced dead-serious friend was a hobbyist DJ). He was pretty sure that Otabek was the only person he knew who had ever asked him what he wanted to do with his life after the inevitable end of his skating career. He’d never even really considered that himself. 

 

**_He touches you unnecessarily._** Yuri thought about the last time he’d been to visit Otabek at home in Almaty. That visit had been peppered with a variety of touches - hugs, shoulder bumps, a hand casually placed on Yuri’s leg while they sat on Otabek’s awful old couch watching stupid old movies that Yuri claimed to hate just to be contrary. 

 

**_He gives you a nickname._** Yuri glanced at his phone. He knew perfectly well that he still had a screenshot of the first time Otabek had called him “Yura” in a text message. But that had been a long time ago - they’d only been friends for a few months at that point. Either that didn’t mean anything or he’d been clueless about this since then. He had to admit to himself that either possibility seemed equally likely. 

 

The whole problem with this kind of analysis, Yuri thought, was that it was based on the behavior of “normal people.” Nothing about their friendship was normal. Hell, nothing about their lives was normal. Maybe it really didn’t mean anything that they were closer than most friends. And Yuri wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ it to mean anything, and he knew that wasn’t normal either. Most guys his age pursued relationships, or at least pursued sex. He had never even considered either of those things before he had realized that Otabek was the most important person in his life - at least, aside from his grandfather. 

 

Yuri slammed the laptop shut and dramatically fell backwards onto the bed. “Fuck my life,” he groaned out loud, this time earning an annoyed glare from the cat. Finally, he grabbed his phone from the mess of sheets next to him. After arranging himself with one arm over his head, elbow bent against the pillows, he snapped a selfie and contemplated it for a moment before tapping the delete icon. He tossed the phone down, pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and threw it on the floor before settling back into the same position to re-take the picture. People did this, right? It wasn’t like it was a picture of his dick or anything gross like that. 

 

He opened Snapchat, captioned the picture “bored as hell” and sent it to Otabek.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Otabek Altin was just returning home from an evening run when his phone’s notification sound went off. He shut the apartment door, tossed his headphones down on the counter, and pulled the device from his pocket. The sight of Yuri’s name next to the Snapchat icon brought a smile to his face - Yuri always sent interesting things. When the image loaded, however, he nearly dropped his phone. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen his friend shirtless before, but the way Yuri’s pale skin looked against the rumpled bedsheets and the way he was sprawled suggestively against the pillows were definitely nothing like the snaps they usually exchanged. 

 

After gaping at the image for a few seconds, mind blank, he took a screenshot of it. He always saved Yuri’s Snapchat selfies, no matter the ridiculous filter or vulgar caption used. They had laughed about it before - “How many dog filter pictures of me do you even need on your phone?” - but this was a whole new situation and Otabek had absolutely no idea how to interpret it. Would saving that image send the wrong impression? Well, it was too late to consider that now…

 

Otabek knew that Yuri had been furiously trying to shed the innocent “Russian fairy” persona that had dogged him since his days in the junior division, but that had never been an issue between the two of them. He had known ever since the first time he had seen Yuri that there was more to the boy than that. So, if that had been part of Yuri’s motivation, why send him that picture instead of posting it to Instagram for the world to see? Finally, Otabek decided it was too many hours into a long day to even contemplate the answer to that question. Instead, he held his phone out to take a selfie that was mediocre in comparison - his hair was sweaty and his face was slightly red from the exertion of the run - and sent it back without caption or comment. 

 

Shortly after, a chat notification came up. _“got time for skype?”_  

 

 _“Not really, sorry,”_ Otabek typed back, while making his way into his room to put his workout gear away. _“Just got home and I need to shower before bed. Got an early practice session tomorrow.”_ He knew denying Yuri anything was usually an exercise in futility, but maybe the excuse of skating practice would do it. And he really did have to be up early - his coach would not be thrilled if he stayed up half the night online. 

 

The next message was simply a string of emojis - a crying cat, an angry face, and a middle finger - but it was quickly followed by another. _“oh alright fine but you better have time tomorrow night!!!”_ And then a third - _“working on anything good? you better not turn into a boring old man on me.”_

 

Otabek laughed out loud at that. _“You’ll see!”_ He replied, a grin on his face. _“Goodnight, Yura.”_

 

_“night beka”_

 

Later, after Otabek had showered and was trying to sleep, he couldn’t stop contemplating that picture. What had Yuri even been thinking? Otabek had always found his younger friend attractive, but it would have seemed inappropriate for him to act on it when Yuri was younger, and so they had settled into a comfortable, if unusually emotionally intimate, friendship. Was it possible that Yuri wanted something more than that? If so, what was different now? He had never known Yuri to give a damn about romance - he openly showed disdain for their friends and acquaintances who were in romantic relationships. _Maybe I’m just overthinking this_ , he thought. _Yuri was bored and was taking stupid pictures. That’s probably all there is to it._

 

When he finally managed to sleep, all he dreamed of was pale skin and blond hair. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri woke up the next morning more annoyed than usual. He had really been hoping for more of a response to the picture he’d sent Otabek, and then they hadn’t even been able to talk on Skype. Not that he could begrudge his friend having to wake up early for practice. He was up early for the same reason, he just cared less about pissing off his coach - but he had convinced himself that he would have been brave enough to ask what Otabek had thought of the photo, perhaps in an uncharacteristically flirtatious way that he had definitely NOT practiced in front of his mirror, thank you very much, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to work up the nerve again now that the moment had passed.

Oh well. It was a new day and he had shit to do. The competition season was right around the corner and there was no way he’d allow himself to be anything less than one hundred percent ready to kick ass. 

Yuri arrived at the rink without incident and was changing into his workout gear when his phone chimed. When he picked it up, he saw a messaging alert from Otabek. That was weird if he was at practice. When he checked it, he was presented with a photo of Otabek from the hips up, wearing a sleek skin-tight shirt with a deep v-neck, made of a dark blue shimmering material. There was a smattering of rhinestones around the neckline, and the sleeves ended just above his elbows, drawing Yuri’s attention to the shape of his biceps under the fabric. He wore a silver sash that looked like silk around the waist of his black trousers. The accompanying message read, _“I figured you’d want to be among the first to see this year’s short program costume. What do you think?”_

What did he think? Yuri stared at the photograph, trying to formulate a response. Should he reply with something serious? Something sarcastic? What sort of reaction was his friend expecting? Why did stupid fucking Feelings make the simple act of replying to a text message such a damn chore?

“YURI!” Yakov’s voice bellowed from outside the locker room. “Get a move on!” He didn’t sound happy. Not that he ever really did.

“Shit,” Yuri said out loud, and quickly typed something back. _“pretty different from your usual style but looks good!”_ He hesitated briefly and added the heart-eyes emoji at the end of the message before sending it. 

Yuri went through his warm-ups and stretches, stoically resisting the urge to check his phone again and trying to ignore Victor and Katsudon. God, they were disgusting even when they weren’t jumping each other. It seemed like the longer they were married, the more insufferable they got. Finally, he got up from the floor and went over to a wall to do standing split stretches. He had grown since he was fifteen - a fact that he was not thrilled about - but thanks to Lilia’s insistence on maintaining his ballet training, he was still nearly as flexible. 

While he was in position, his left leg planted on the floor with his right over his head, flush against the wall, torso parallel to the floor, he had an idea. He pulled himself back into a standing position and grabbed his phone from the floor, looking around briefly to make sure Yakov wasn’t paying attention. Nope, busy yelling at Victor, awesome. Yuri was not in the mood to be a part of yet another “this is a skating rink, not a photo studio” lecture.

Yuri stretched back into the same position against the wall, arching his back and upper body upward this time and reaching his arm up to get into a good selfie position. Once he was sure he’d gotten a good shot, he messaged it to Otabek - who had still not replied to the previous message, but he was probably busy, Yuri told himself sternly - accompanied by the words _“that outfit’s gonna look even better on you after i kick your ass @ the gpf!”_ and a winking emoji. 

“YURI!” Oh, shit. “Put the phone away and get your skates on!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri grumbled, but obeyed. He was holding Otabek to the promise of a Skype call tonight for sure.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Otabek’s day went by in a blur. After the costume fitting, rink practice, and gym time, it was evening before he knew it. It had been productive - his costumes were done, his short program was about as good as it was going to get, and he was satisfied with how his free skate was coming along. He wanted to surprise the world this year by adding a quad Lutz to his repertoire, and he also wanted to see the look on Yuri’s face when he pulled it off. 

It had been lunchtime by the time he had checked his phone again and seen his friend’s replies to the photo of his new costume. 

Yuri’s legendary flexibility wasn’t a surprise to him. He’d been watching the younger boy skate for years, after all. But even so, the image of Yuri stretched out against a wall, back arched and face smirking at the camera like it was effortless, affected Otabek more than the shirtless Snapchat photo from the other night. Yuri worked out in crop tops and leggings like he was in an 80s music video, and it showed off the curve of his body beautifully even from the odd camera angle. The fire in Yuri’s beautiful eyes looked like a challenge. Could he be doing this on purpose after all, Otabek wondered. They’d sent each other workout photos before but that facial expression was something new altogether.

At home that evening, Otabek refrained from getting himself off in the shower to the thought of the pictures. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but he knew there was no way he could look Yuri in the eye, even through a webcam, immediately afterwards. He was good at keeping an impassive expression, but Yuri could see right through him. 

It was probably for the best, because Yuri was already calling when Otabek sat down at his computer after the decidedly boring shower. He briefly finished toweling off his damp hair, threw the towel on the floor with a mental note to pick it up before bed, and accepted the call.

\--

Thousands of kilometers away on the other side of a webcam, Yuri was nervous and he had no idea why. _This is stupid,_ he told himself sternly. _He’s your best friend. Just talk to him._ It didn’t slow his racing heartbeat by any significant amount. 

He couldn’t help himself smiling when Otabek’s image appeared on his laptop screen. “Hey,” he said, feeling a little dumbstruck.

“Good to see you, Yura.” 

“You too. That short program costume was pretty damn cool. What music are you skating to this year anyway?” Yuri asked. It was an easy topic for them to talk about, and he genuinely was curious. 

“You’ll see,” Otabek replied coolly, a smirk on his face. “I’m out to surprise everybody this season, and that includes you.” 

“Bekaaaa,” Yuri whined, pouting. “I want to hear about it. Come on, I had to put up with Victor and the pig all day, you have to give me something here.”

“It’s only, what, three months to the Cup of China.” They had both been invited to that competition - Yuri’s second GPF qualifier would be Rostelecom and Otabek’s would be the NHK Trophy. “You’ll see what I mean then. And you have to put up with Victor and Katsuki every day, they’re your rink mates.” 

“All the more reason you should be nice to me,” Yuri replied. “They’re terrible.”

“Everybody knows you don’t actually hate them, Yura.” Otabek grinned at him. “You just show your affection by being mean.”

“Ugh, maybe. But that’s why you love me.”

“It’s one reason.” 

Yuri blinked, a shocked expression on his face. “I - what?” He stammered out. “Beka, you can’t just say shit like that. I’m confused enough over here as it is.”

Otabek looked like he had shocked himself as well, like he hadn’t intended to say anything like that at all, but that melted away quickly as Yuri kept talking. “Confused? About what?” 

Yuri looked down at his keyboard and took a deep breath, trying to come up with the words. This was what he had wanted to do, right? At least the conversation had given him an opening. When he raised his head again, Otabek was regarding him curiously on the screen. 

“It’s just...” Yuri started, and then paused again. “Look, our... Whatever we have... Friendship or whatever? Isn’t really normal, is it?” 

Otabek hesitated briefly before answering. “Well, no. But why would it be? I’m not normal and neither are you.” He looked much more sure of himself than Yuri felt.

“I mean, like, back in June when I came to visit you for a week,” Yuri continued. “When we sat on the couch and listened to your mix tapes while you braided my hair. Friends don’t do that, do they?” 

“We do, apparently.”

“That’s my point, though.” Yuri sighed, trying to make sense of what was going through his mind enough to put it into coherent sentences. “That whole trip... Something changed for me. I don’t know what or how but it’s like... Like a switch got flipped in my brain. And since then, it’s just...” He trailed off, silent for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed, unable to find any further words to explain what he was feeling. “I’ve been reading stuff on the internet.”

Otabek’s eyebrows raised. “What?” 

“Like... Stuff about how people act when they like other people.” Yuri hesitated for a moment before adding, “You know, romantically.”

“And what exactly did you read?” Otabek asked, sounding somewhat bewildered. 

“It said that when somebody likes you, they want to know all about you. They give you nicknames. They look at you a lot and touch you for no reason.” Yuri stopped again, steeling himself, before saying all in one breath, “And I think maybe you might like me because you do all that stuff all the time and I hope you do because I think that’s what’s different is that I like you too.”

“Yura...” Otabek started, and then paused. He seemed thrown off by the detour in the conversation. Finally, he said, “Yura, I don’t feel any differently about you than I have since we became friends in Barcelona.”

Yuri’s face fell and he looked away from the computer screen, trying to hide his disappointment. _I was wrong,_ he thought. _He doesn’t like me and now I look like an idiot and he won’t even want to talk to me anymore. God, I’m so fucking stupid._ He wanted the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him into the center of the earth. 

Otabek had obviously noticed his reaction, because he continued speaking, explaining. “I’m sorry. I think you’re interpreting that differently than I meant it. I’ve always admired you, been attracted to you, even had a crush on you.” He sighed and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “This isn’t really a conversation I wanted to have through a computer screen. Hell, it isn’t a conversation I ever really expected we’d be having at all.” 

“Because I’m a freak without normal emotions,” Yuri said, monotone, still staring away. “I never felt anything about anybody, never even understood how or why anybody had these kinds of feelings at all. Why would you even think I had feelings for you? It took me half the damn summer to even understand what any of it meant. This shit seems so damn easy for everybody else, it’s not even fair.” He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to pull himself together, to slow his heart rate and calm his breathing. 

“You’re not a freak,” Otabek said, forcefully enough to make Yuri look at him again. “Don’t say things like that. You’re right, I didn’t think you had those kinds of feelings about me. But there’s nothing wrong with you. You mean more to me than I can say, and whether we’re friends or something else, I need you.”

“I... I need you too, Beka. I don’t want to wait months to see you again,” Yuri murmured, his voice betraying him with its soft tone and low volume. He was desperately trying not to cry from the sheer emotional overload. How did normal people even handle this?

“I want to see you too, but I don’t know if it’s possible right now.” Otabek leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “I’ll try and see if I can take a couple days and come to St. Petersburg. I can’t make any promises, but maybe my coach will be willing to treat it as a mental health break.”

“Don’t fuck up your pre-season for my sake,” Yuri protested weakly, even though he was desperately happy about the suggestion.

“Ask Yakov if I can take practice at your rink while I’m there,” Otabek suggested. “It won’t be for that long anyway, even if I can get away. If I thought it would impact my skating I wouldn’t even have suggested it. I need to go to bed now, it’s getting awfully late here, but I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, Yura.” 

Yuri nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Okay. Goodnight,” he said, before disconnecting the call. 

It was as sleepless a night in Almaty as it was in Saint Petersburg.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When he got out of bed this morning, Yuri could still barely believe the previous evening’s conversation had really occurred. If he had slept at all, he’d probably assume it had been a dream. Otabek really did like him - maybe even love him, if that offhand comment had been literal? And despite the life-changing revelations, he still had to go to ballet like everything was normal and pretend like he was capable of giving a shit today. 

All things considered, he did all right. Lilia ended up shouting at him about being distracted only a few times, which was on par with any average day. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, it was over and he was released to break for lunch. 

While Yuri ate, he scrolled through his social media feeds. His Twitter mentions were full of the usual nonsense - gossip articles from skating blogs, the Angels and their begging him for retweets. Switching to Instagram was more entertaining. At least it had lots of adorable cats. He stopped scrolling when he came across a selfie of Otabek’s, posted that morning. It was a lovely picture, with the rising sun peeking through cityscape. The caption read, _“to the start of a beautiful day!”_  

Yuri smiled softly as he took in the details of the image - the smooth, tan skin of his friend’s sharp jawline, the curve of his lips, the little twinkle in his eyes that Yuri knew he was more familiar with than the rest of the world was. He clicked the “like” button on the image and snapped a screenshot to keep it. 

The time Yuri had allotted for lunch was nearly over, and he was getting his things together to go do his strength training, when a message alert chimed on his phone. When he saw that it was from Otabek, he opened it immediately, and what he saw made his heart pound in his chest. It was a picture of a flight itinerary.

_Tuesday 2019-08-20_

_Almaty (ALA) – Saint Petersburg (LED)_

_10:20 – 13:45     5h 25m_

Tuesday? That was tomorrow. Yuri stared at the image, wide-eyed, trying to process the information. Tomorrow. Otabek would be there in 24 hours. Holy shit. Finally, he snapped himself out of the shocked stupor and tapped out a response. 

 _“not wasting any time, huh?”_ After a moment’s hesitation, he added a winking emoji to lighten the tone before tapping send. 

The next message came almost immediately. _“Not anymore.”_

Yuri spent the rest of the day feeling like he was walking on clouds. There was no way the next day could possibly come fast enough.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It was Tuesday morning. Yuri was laying in bed, awake, at 5:00 am. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he would be seeing Otabek in just a few hours. He had gotten permission to cut his early skating practice short that day after an awkward conversation with Yakov, who he was pretty sure didn’t buy the “mental health” excuse for Otabek’s visit. Briefly, he wondered if Otabek’s coach had believed that either.  

Instead of pondering that for any length of time, Yuri turned his thoughts to the conversation they needed to have. He really wanted to know why Otabek had felt this way for so long and never said anything, and he wanted to try and explain - if he could find the words himself - how his own feelings had changed in the last few months. He thought back to the evenings they’d spent on Otabek’s couch watching movies or listening to music, and how he had wanted to curl up against his friend’s side, but had been too nervous to try it. 

 _Will we be boyfriends after this?_ He wondered. The thought made him happier than he cared to admit. If they were boyfriends, that meant stuff like cuddling, and holding hands, and kissing... The more Yuri thought about kissing Otabek, the more he really wanted to try it. It wasn’t something he’d considered much before the last few months, but now it seemed like a big deal. 

Suddenly, a realization hit him. What came after all of that? Sex. What if Otabek wanted to have sex with him? The mere idea sent Yuri into a mental panic. Did he even want to do that? How was he even supposed to figure that out? He had a pretty good idea of the physical mechanics of it, but not of how it was supposed to happen. 

Yuri sat up in his bed and grabbed his laptop off the nightstand. He had to do some research about this. Otabek probably had more experience than he did and the last thing he wanted was to look like a stupid kid. He opened the computer and thought about it for a moment before typing _“how to tell if i’m ready to have sex”_ into the search bar.

The results were a bunch of bullshit mostly aimed at girls. “What the hell?” Yuri grumbled out loud. He couldn’t possibly be the only guy on the face of the planet who didn’t want to fuck everything that moved. What did sex have to do with his career goals?  Morals and religion were a non-issue as far as he was concerned - if God gave a shit who he was fucking or why, then God’s priorities were stupid. The stuff about trusting your partner was so obvious he wasn’t sure why it was even there. Make sure you’re emotionally ready? What kind of advice was that when that what he was trying to figure out to begin with?

Maybe he needed to revise the search. He went back to the search bar and typed _“first time having gay sex”_ instead. The first couple results were somebody’s terribly written pornographic short stories. _Why is this even on the internet?_ He wondered. After that, there was also a lot of technical information about lube, condoms, STIs, PrEP... It all seemed really complicated. Another page had a couple of videos Yuri regretted clicking on so badly that he slammed his laptop shut and practically threw it onto the floor. The internet was fucking terrible, he decided, before getting out of bed to get ready for practice.

Yuri had just arrived at the rink when he got a text from Otabek. It contained a selfie taken in front of a gate in Almaty’s airport and the words _“See you this afternoon. I’ll take a cab to your place so you don’t get stalked at the airport by creepy fangirls.”_

Yuri’s elation lasted the entire morning, his pre-dawn internet searches all but forgotten. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know if Russian apartments use a buzzer system, and I googled it, and it didn't help, so I decided to just pretend.

Otabek had never really cared for traveling. Sure, it was necessary for his career, but he would always prefer to be at home given the choice. However, in the last couple of years, he’d found that as long as seeing Yuri was on the other side of it, he didn’t mind as much. That didn’t mean it didn’t exhaust him, but he wasn’t totally miserable when he threw his backpack and duffel bag into a cab and gave the driver Yuri’s address.

The old Russian cab driver didn’t really seem to care that his passenger wasn’t listening to a word he said. He chattered on and on as he sped through the streets at a pace that Otabek found vaguely alarming. He briefly gave thanks to the universe for international data plans while looking through social media. Victor had posted at least 20 pictures on Instagram that morning. Most of them were of Katsuki, with a few of their other rink mates pictured, but Otabek’s favorite by far was a stunning shot of Yuri in the middle of a layback spin, the light catching in his hair so that it shined like a halo. He tapped the ‘like’ icon - an understatement since the beauty and grace portrayed were enough to take his breath away - and continued to contemplate the photo for some time before finally continuing to scroll through his feed.

Thankfully, the cab ride was over before Otabek ran out of stuff to look at on the internet. He paid the driver, carried his belongings into the entryway of Yuri’s apartment building, and rang the buzzer. The door buzzed in return and unlocked almost immediately, and he made his way up the stairs to the fourth floor.

Yuri’s door had been left open, but Otabek knocked anyway before entering and shutting it behind him. 

“I’m in the kitchen!” Yuri’s voice called. Otabek made his way over to the room in question, and a moment later found himself wrapped in a bear hug as the younger man practically jumped on him. He dropped his duffel bag so he could return the gesture.

“How was your flight? Do you want anything to eat? I just got home from practice and I picked up some soup and salad and stuff at this cafe...”

Otabek smiled despite himself as Yuri chattered on, still hugging him. “It was fine. Food would be good. My breakfast was coffee and a protein bar,” he admitted. “Do you mind if I take a shower first, though? I smell like five hours on a plane and I hate it.” 

“You smell fine,” Yuri replied, a light flush coloring his cheeks as he broke away from the extended hug. “But you can take a shower if you want. Where’s the rest of your stuff?” 

“This is it.” Otabek gestured to the duffel on the floor and the backpack he was wearing. “We don’t all need our entire wardrobe for a trip lasting 48 hours,” he said, in a playful teasing tone. “Besides, I figured I could use any of the thirty kinds of shampoo and body wash you keep in your bathroom.”

“Oh, Beka,” Yuri said sarcastically, “if you really think it’s only thirty then you’re drastically underestimating me.”

\--

Otabek exited the bathroom after his shower with his hair still damp, smelling of Yuri’s bath products, and wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Abruptly, he realized he needed to check on the details for his return trip, because he’d gotten an email that it had changed but the itinerary hadn't loaded properly. 

“Hey, Yuri?” He called, sticking his head into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I use your computer for a minute? I need to check my flight home and it doesn’t work on my phone.”

“No problem,” Yuri replied, looking up from where he was plating some of the food he’d picked up. “It’s in my room. Probably on the floor someplace, I don’t even remember.”

Yuri’s room was a mess. There were clothes, plush toys, and knick-knacks strewn everywhere, his bed wasn’t made, and his fluffy grey cat was asleep on one of the pillows. Otabek glanced around, looking for the laptop, and finally found it sticking out from underneath Yuri’s leopard-print pajama pants on the floor. He sat down on the floor and opened it up, and his eyebrows shot up as he saw the web browser windows that had been left open. The first visible tab had a really graphic and borderline-violent porn video, which he closed almost immediately purely on reflex. 

 _What the hell?_ Otabek asked himself silently, looking over the other tabs. Why had Yuri been searching for this kind of stuff? Did Yuri think he was just here for... what, a booty call? Had he given that impression without meaning to? He tried to think if he’d said anything with that implication the last few times they had spoken. It had certainly not been his intention.

Shaking himself out of the shock, he shut all the browser windows and went to check on his travel details as he’d originally intended to. Violating Yuri’s privacy hadn’t been his intention either, and even though he’d gotten permission to use the laptop, he was certain it hadn’t been Yuri’s intention for him to see those web searches. 

Once Otabek made his way back out to the kitchen, they ate the lunch that Yuri had set up in a comfortable, more-or-less silence, interspersed only with bits of small talk and gossip about people they knew. It was the way they’d spent most of their time together, and it helped calm Otabek’s nerves to some extent. He knew they still needed to have their Serious Conversation, but for the moment, it was pleasant and enjoyable to just spend some casual time with his closest friend. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

After they finished lunch, Otabek had offered to share some of his new music with Yuri, so they’d moved into the living room, settled in on the couch, and put Otabek’s phone onto the speaker dock. After a few remixes of popular club music, the next thing that came on was somewhat different. It was a blend of a sweeping theatrical piece and a high BPM dance track that felt to Yuri like it was a battle between tradition and modernity. 

“Is this for a skating program?” He asked curiously, and Otabek nodded.

“Yeah. I put it together for my short program this year. Coach hated it at first, but once I showed him what I want to do with it, he got on board.” 

Yuri chuckled dryly. “Been there, done that.” He’d had to fight with Yakov to be allowed to choreograph his own routines, and he didn’t even write music. “So what exactly are you doing with it?”

“I told you, that’s a surprise.”

“Hell of a surprise when I’ve seen the costume and heard the music,” Yuri complained, and swung his long legs casually - or at least he hoped so - over Otabek’s lap to recline against the armrest of the couch. 

“We both know there’s more to a good program than those things, Yura,” Otabek replied, suppressing the butterflies in his stomach. “I promise, you’ll understand when you see it.” 

Yuri simply scowled at him, but Otabek knew the lack of a verbal response was as much assent as he would get. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the music on random shuffle, until Yuri sat up again and leaned against Otabek’s side, head against his shoulder, legs still over his lap. Otabek reflexively wrapped his arm around Yuri to let him get comfortable. 

“Beka?” 

“Hm?” A more coherent response was beyond him at that point. 

Yuri hesitated, his heart racing, and glanced up at his friend’s face. “So... Were you planning on kissing me? Like, ever?” He finally managed.

Otabek’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned his head slightly to look at Yuri. “I was,” he replied after a long moment, “but I thought we were going to talk first. Before any of that.” 

“Jesus, Beka, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for months. I want to get it out of the way. Not in a bad way,” Yuri added, when Otabek arched one eyebrow quizzically at his phrasing. “Just, like, so I can concentrate on literally anything else, you know?”

“I have a vague idea.” Otabek’s voice was deadpan, before turning more serious. “Yura, are you sure?” He asked, reaching his free hand up to stroke the side of Yuri’s face softly.

Yuri’s eyes closed as he leaned into the caress. “Yes,” he murmured. And Otabek kissed him.

Their first kiss wasn’t cataclysmic. There were no fireworks. It was gentle, chaste, and loving. It was nothing like Yuri had imagined, but everything he hadn’t even known he wanted. When it ended, they remained wrapped in their embrace, foreheads pressed together, simply content to breathe the same air for a little while.

Finally, Yuri managed to persuade his vocal chords to work again. “Wow.” He felt drunk, like the world had been turned sideways. _How do people do this on a regular basis?_ He wondered briefly in the back of his mind.

“Will you be able to concentrate on ‘literally anything else’ now?” Otabek teased lightly, the corners of his mouth curved up in a small, yet gratified smile.  

“Are you kidding? I don’t think I’ll ever think about anything else again.” As soon as Yuri heard the bluntness of his own words, his cheeks colored again and he screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment, letting his head fall back slightly against the couch. “Ugh, that was stupid.”

 Otabek laughed. “No, it wasn’t. It was cute. And don’t argue.” He knew perfectly well that Yuri would want to feign offense at being called ‘cute’ - even by him. “If it helps, I’ve been imagining this longer than you have, I think, and it will still be on my mind for some time as well.” 

“How long?”

“Have I been thinking about kissing you?” Otabek asked, and Yuri nodded. “Like I said on Skype, Yura, my feelings for you haven’t changed the whole time we’ve been friends.”

“Yeah, I remember. So, why the hell didn’t you ever say anything before?” Yuri demanded, perhaps a little more harshly than he had intended.

Otabek sighed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a moment while he tried to formulate an answer that encapsulated the multitude of reasons he hadn’t ever tried to change the nature of their relationship before. “Do you remember the epic media shitstorm that happened after I rescued you from your crazy fans in Barcelona?” 

“What, all the stupid kidnapping bullshit?” Yuri rolled his eyes. Of course he remembered that.  

“Exactly. People thought I was a bad influence on you, that I was going to ‘corrupt’ you, all that. Can you imagine the tone it would have taken on if anyone had thought we were more than friends then?” Otabek asked. “Yura, you were fifteen. I know you weren’t some helpless innocent kid, but with the public image you had cultivated back then, I would have ended up painted as some kind of disgusting child predator.” 

Yuri considered that, letting the truth of the words sink in. As much as he hated it sometimes, they were public figures with their lives subject to outside scrutiny. “I guess you’re right about that,” he grumbled. “People would have really overreacted if we’d done this back then.”

“Besides, I was happy to be your friend, and I felt like you were happy to be mine. From the beginning, we understood each other. That’s just as valuable as any other kind of relationship, and I wouldn’t have wanted to screw that up.” He stopped for a moment, looking for words again. “This next part is going to sound ridiculous,” he admitted with a sigh, “but even if all of that hadn’t been an issue... I would never have had the confidence back then to think you’d want me.” 

Yuri arched one eyebrow and snorted in disbelief. “You’re right, Beka, that does sound ridiculous.”

“Try and look at it from my perspective.” Otabek took a deep breath, still working at calming his nerves. “The first time I ever saw you, back when we were both just kids, when I had no emotional context for any of this at all... You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted to hate you out of pure jealousy but I couldn’t.” He stopped again to swallow the nervous lump in his throat. “Hell, some of your juniors performances gave me the inspiration to keep skating when I wanted to quit. When we actually met properly, I was shocked you even wanted to be friends when me. I figured you’d tell me to fuck off.” 

Yuri stared, wide-eyed, as the words poured from his friend’s mouth. He’d already known that he made an impression on Otabek at training camp when they were young - _“eyes of a soldier”_ echoed in his mind - but most of that was new information that he didn’t know what to make of. _What do you even say to something like that?_ He wondered. Finally, he settled on wriggling closer under Otabek’s arm to embrace him tightly. 

Yuri’s arms around him lifted a weight from Otabek’s shoulders, and he shifted sideways slightly to return the embrace more directly. He couldn’t remember feeling this emotionally exhausted in his entire life, but inhaling the scent of Yuri’s hair made it completely worthwhile.  They stayed like that while the music played on through several more tracks. 

After a while spent sorting through his thoughts and emotions, Yuri finally spoke. “I thought something about me was broken,” he said softly, voice wavering. “Everybody around me was always obsessed with... all of this. Mila and her endless string of boyfriends, and Georgi always being obsessed with some girl or another, and fucking Victor leaving a new string of broken hearts across Europe every season...” He fiddled anxiously with the hem of Otabek’s shirt for a moment before continuing. “A lot of the time I was actually pretty fine with it. No distractions. While those idiots were caught up in all of that shit, I could just skate, you know?”

“I don’t want to be a distraction to you, Yura,” Otabek said, voice quiet, still holding onto him tightly.

“That was never a problem,” he replied. “Hell, becoming friends with you made me better. You gave me a perspective on the world that I didn’t have before. You wanted to be around me, not because we were rink mates or family. There was no obligation for you to put up with my shitty attitude but you did anyway. I didn’t understand that.” 

“You were never that terrible.” Otabek knew he had to rephrase that statement as soon as the words passed his lips. “Well, you were never that terrible **to me** , at least.” It was true, Yuri could be abrasive. The time he had called a magazine reporter a horse-faced piece of shit at a press conference after winning gold at Worlds had been pretty epic. The guy had deserved it, though. 

“Well, yeah, because you’re not stupid and annoying like damn near everyone else. You always accepted me for who I was, instead of trying to make me into whatever you wanted to see me as.” Yuri had to stop and collect his thoughts then. As much as he didn’t like having to deal with the confusion of his feelings, this also wasn’t the time to get angry and rant about other dumb shit. “Spending time with you always made me feel happy, comfortable, accepted... But it was never anything more than that, not like what you just described to me.”

“Not until this summer, anyway?” Otabek asked, and immediately felt guilty for the leading question. _Let him get to that at his own pace,_ he chastised himself sternly. 

“I don’t know if I can even describe what it’s been like,” Yuri admitted. “There was one moment. It was pretty late, and we had your music on and a football game muted on the TV because you can’t stand the announcers, and you were braiding my hair up because it was damp and I didn’t want it to get all tangled when I went to sleep, and all of a sudden my goddamn brain was just like, _what would it be like to kiss him?_ And I was fucking terrified, because who the hell has their first thought like that when they’re eighteen?” 

“And then you freaked out and ran off to go to sleep.” Otabek remembered that evening, and his resulting confusion over the whole situation, fairly well. “I thought you just didn’t like the way I was doing your hair.” He was only half-joking about that.

“Idiot, if that was why, I would have just told you to cut it out.” Yuri chuckled, irony evident in the tone. “But yeah, I’ve been pretty much freaked out continuously since then. I couldn’t figure out why I just started seeing you differently, but only like it was just **more** than before... And I didn’t even know how to develop a frame of reference for that. Which is why, after like a month and a half of driving myself fucking crazy, I got the genius idea to use the internet to try and figure out if you liked me like that too.” 

“Is that where you got the idea to send me a picture of yourself in bed with your shirt off?” Otabek asked, a teasing tone to his voice again. 

“No.” Yuri was blushing furiously as he answered, and he was glad with the position they were still cuddling in that Otabek couldn’t really see his face directly. “That was my idea. It seemed like a thing people do.” He paused for a brief second before adding, “Did you like it?” 

“Yes,” Otabek replied, opting for the simplest answer. “I liked it. A lot.” There would be another time when he could go into detail about just how much he had appreciated the sight of Yuri’s pale, lithe body, but this wasn’t that time. 

“Good. Maybe return the favor sometime, then,” Yuri muttered into the side of Otabek’s neck, barely believing that the words were coming out of his mouth. 

“What, you want pictures of me with my shirt off?” Surprise practically dripped from the words. 

“Yes.” Yuri sat up a bit, emboldened by his apparent ability to shock Otabek with that request, and shifted around so they could see each other’s faces again. “But right now I’d settle for you kissing me again.” 

Their second kiss quickly turned into a third, and fourth, and even more. As the kisses became more adventurous, open-mouthed and wet, Yuri shifted his body position so he was straddling Otabek’s lap, arms around his neck. _Is this what people mean by ‘making out’?_ He wondered, dazed, heat flooding his entire body when Otabek’s strong hands settled on his hips. _It’s fucking awesome._

Minutes later, while the better judgement that Otabek had shoved into the back of his mind was trying to convince him that he should probably put a stop to it, that it was too much too fast, they were rudely interrupted by Yuri’s cat. The fluffy creature jumped up on the end table beside the couch, knocked the phone dock onto the floor, and started meowing forlornly as though she’d been abandoned. Both boys jumped at the noise when the electronics hit the floor, and Yuri reluctantly untangled himself from the intimate embrace to get up and shoo the cat away, while Otabek laughed at his annoyed demeanor. 

“Damn jealous cat,” Yuri complained as he picked up the dock and placed it back on the table. “At least she didn’t break your phone.” 

“Getting home would be more challenging without it,” Otabek agreed, still snickering at the irate way Yuri flopped back down on the couch next to him. The cat’s antics had certainly killed the mood, which he was at least a little grateful for. “We should probably thank her, though. Otherwise we’d probably have just sat here the rest of the day.”

“And what exactly is the problem with that?” Yuri was unable to think of a single reason why he’d want to spend the rest of the day doing anything else. 

Otabek shrugged. “Well, I was hoping you’d show me around your neighborhood. You lived in a different part of town the last time I visited you, and this area seems nicer. We have to eat dinner at some point, and I want to go for a run this evening. My coach will kill me if I go home having done nothing he considers worthwhile for two whole days.” 

“Ugh, fine.” Yuri was not amused. “I need to change clothes, though.” He would never be caught dead outside in the loungewear he’d thrown on when he got home from practice. “And we’re going to the rink in the morning, so we’re not staying out late.”

“Staying out late wasn’t in my plan. My internal clock is three hours ahead of yours, remember?” Otabek said. “And I should change too, actually. These clothes are basically what I brought to sleep in, it was just the first thing I pulled out of my bag.” 

So, when Yuri disappeared into his room to find something acceptable to wear outside, Otabek threw on jeans and a different t-shirt and sat for a moment to think. He knew he probably needed to mention to Yuri the internet searches he’d seen on the computer, and that they should probably talk about the new, physical aspect of their relationship before Yuri got the wrong idea about his expectations. That could wait until tomorrow, he decided. A lighthearted evening out would be a change of pace for both of them anyway, even if all they did was walk around residential St. Petersburg. 


	9. Chapter 9

It was a nice afternoon and evening for an idle stroll around the city, with mild weather, even for August. Otabek had seen most of it before, but it was more enjoyable with Yuri playing some version of a tour guide. Of course, that mostly involved pointing out especially cute stray cats and posting photos of them on Instagram, but he was okay with that. They had gone into a diner-like restaurant near Yuri’s apartment for dinner - Otabek thought it looked rather like a dump, but Yuri swore the food was good, and he was right. Despite the poor lighting, awful elevator music, and outdated decor, the selection of dishes they’d shared had been excellent. 

After dinner, they had returned to Yuri’s apartment, and Otabek had insisted on changing clothes to go running, despite the fact that the sun was already starting to set. Yuri grumbled and complained about it, but ended up going along anyway. By the time they’d gotten in a solid five kilometers, it was almost completely dark, so they made the return trip again. By that point, Otabek felt like he was dead on his feet. Between the time change, the traveling, and the exercise, he was really looking forward to some sleep.

“You go clean up first,” Yuri offered, while he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and handed another one to Otabek. “You look exhausted and I’ll take longer than you.”

“Thanks, it’s been a really long day.” Otabek leaned against the doorframe, shoulders sagging, and downed half the bottle in one go. “If you’ve got an extra pillow or something, just throw that on the couch and I’ll probably be asleep before you even get out of the shower.” 

“Why the hell would you sleep on the couch?” Yuri tilted his head, confused. “We’ve slept in the same bed before.” 

“Only because of that mix-up with the number of hotel rooms Victor and Katsuki booked for their wedding guests,” Otabek pointed out. That fiasco had led to a lot of hilarious social media posts with pictures of unlikely pairs sharing beds. “You always sleep in my guest room, and the last time I visited here, you had an inflatable mattress.”

“The cat tore that up. And the couch is horrible. You just said you’ll probably be asleep by the time I’m done cleaning up. Just crash in my bed, for fuck’s sake.” 

“All right, then.” Otabek sighed. “If you insist.” At least since they had to leave early, maybe there wouldn’t be time for this to be awkward. 

—

Later that night, after Yuri had gone through his extended skin and hair care routines, he slipped quietly into his dark bedroom. There was just enough ambient light coming through the window from the city outside that he could make it over to the bed and deposit his phone on the nightstand without tripping over anything on the floor. 

The sight of Otabek sleeping in his bed, sprawled out on his back with a peaceful look on his face, filled Yuri with a rush of emotions that he still didn’t entirely understand. He gingerly pulled back the top sheet and slid into the bed to curl up next to Otabek, placing his head on the sleeping man’s shoulder. 

A low rumbling sound escaped Otabek’s throat as his eyes opened slightly. “Hey.”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Yuri said softly, genuinely apologetic. 

“I’m a light sleeper,” Otabek mumbled, still drowsy, shifting around so they were both more comfortable before shutting his eyes again. “Goodnight, Yura.”

“Night, Beka.” 

Yuri stayed awake for a while longer, trying to catalogue the entire experience in his mind. The firm lines of their bodies pressed together, the slight rasp of Otabek’s breathing, the scent of the aftershave he used... But it was finally the comforting rhythm of Otabek’s heartbeat that lulled Yuri to sleep.

\--

The following morning, when Yuri woke up, he was laying on his side with Otabek spooned behind him, warm breath against his neck, one hand touching the skin at his stomach where his pajama top had ridden up. His heart rate jumped when he registered the press of Otabek’s erection against his lower back. They’d both been hard the previous day while they were making out on the couch, but Yuri wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. 

Before he could figure it out, he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and felt Otabek pull away from the embrace and roll over to the other side of the bed. Yuri did the same to follow him. “Hey, it’s still early, we don’t have to get out of bed yet.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.” Otabek sighed, covering his face with one hand. “I didn’t want this to be awkward. I guess that’s out the window.” 

“I don’t get it.” Yuri laid his head down on the pillow next to Otabek to look at his face closely. “You want me. I know you want me. So what’s the problem?” _Other than the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing,_ he added silently. 

Otabek was silent for a long moment, taking deep, measured breaths. Finally, he uncovered his face to look at Yuri. “Just because I want you doesn’t mean I had any intention of us having sex right now, and I was practically humping you in my sleep.”

“No, you weren’t,” Yuri protested. “We were just sleeping. And... you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Don’t want to and don’t intend to aren’t the same thing.” 

“Okay, fine, don’t intend to. Why?” It was too early in the morning for Yuri to debate semantics. 

Otabek made an exasperated huffing sound. “Lots of reasons. Because we’re just starting this, whatever it is, and it’s too soon. Because by your own admission, you never even thought about kissing until a couple months ago, and I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for. Because I want our first time being physically intimate to be important and meaningful, and not just something we fall into because we’re both overwhelmed and horny.” The words spilled from his mouth without really engaging his brain.  

“Oh,” Yuri said, lamely, unable and frankly unwilling to argue with any of that. “Do you... have a lot of experience with... this?” He managed to ask. 

“I dated a guy back home the summer I was sixteen,” Otabek replied, his tone flat. “He wanted a lot more - physically - than I was sure I did. He never forced me to do anything, but if I could go back and not do the things we did, I would. Other than that poor excuse for a relationship, no, I don’t.” 

Yuri hugged him tightly, filled with remorse. “Sorry for asking,” he murmured. “I guess I understand why you don’t want me to end up feeling that way.” 

They laid together until the sunrise was illuminating the room before Otabek spoke again. “While we’re on the topic, I do need to tell you something,” he said quietly. _I have to bring this up eventually,_ he told himself firmly. 

“What?” 

“Yesterday, when you said I could use your laptop.” Otabek cleared his throat. “There were... some internet searches... left up in your web browser.”

“Oh. Oh fuck.” Yuri suddenly remembered what he’d been looking up before he’d thrown his laptop on the floor the previous morning, and flipped over on the bed to bury his face in the other pillows, absolutely mortified. “Those goddamn gross videos,” he groaned, “I forgot that shit was on there, I’m sorry -“

“Hey, it’s fine,” Otabek interrupted, sitting up to place a comforting hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “I’ve seen internet porn before. That’s not even what I was talking about. I’m more concerned that you’re trying to use the internet to figure out if you’re ready to have sex.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t any fucking help anyway,” Yuri grumbled, still face-down in the pillows. “Everything was written for girls who were worried about getting pregnant.” 

“Well, at least that is one thing we don’t need to consider,” Otabek deadpanned, drawing a snicker from Yuri, who finally sat up as well. “Look, in my admittedly limited experience, the answer is this: You’re ready when it feels right. It’s vague because it’s different for everybody and nobody can tell you what it means for you.”

Yuri nodded reluctantly. He didn’t like that much ambiguity. He wanted a straight answer. But something in the back of his mind told him that Otabek was probably right and he’d probably just have to wait and see what conclusions he came to with time. It was at that moment that his phone alarm on the nightstand went off.

“I guess that means it’s time for us to table this discussion and go to practice, huh?” Otabek asked. “I don’t need your coach judging me for making you late.”

“I’m late all the time anyway,” Yuri said, but got out of bed anyway. He did want to show off some of his new choreography to Otabek while he had the chance. 


	10. Chapter 10

The morning at the rink was more productive than Otabek had expected it to be. All of Yuri’s rink mates had refrained from commenting on his presence - at least to his face, he was sure there had been gossip - and left him to his own devices. He spent a large chunk of time on a far side of the ice, working on a more difficult entry into his triple axel. Yuri had explained that he needed to work on an obviously difficult portion of a fast step sequence, so Otabek wanted to avoid being in the way. That took up more space than what he was doing, after all, and he was the one infringing on other people’s space. Another corner of the rink was occupied by Victor drilling Katsuki on the quad loop - that would make the competition season more interesting, Otabek thought. 

When they all broke for lunch, Otabek and Yuri sat together in the small lounge area, eating in silence. Out of nowhere, Yuri said, “You know the reason that entry doesn’t work is that you’re too stiff.” 

“What?” 

“For the axel you were working on.” Yuri made eye contact and took a gulp of his tea. “It’s supposed to flow. You look like you’re working too hard at it. It wrecks your balance and it won’t look right in a program that way.”

“Hmm.” Otabek made a noncommittal noise in response, despite a small smile on his face. “You might have better luck getting your choreography down if you stop watching me,” he replied, his tone slightly playful.

“I wasn’t watching, asshole,” Yuri protested, a little too loudly, “I just happened to see.” 

They fake-argued back and forth like that for a little while before the exchange caught Victor’s attention a couple of tables over. “Oh, is this a lovers quarrel?” he exclaimed cheerfully from where he was eating with Yuuri. “Little Yurio is all grown up!”

Yuri turned bright red and stood up abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. “Oh, fuck off, Victor!” He stormed out of the room, swearing in several languages. 

“Yurio, I was just joking!” Victor shouted after him, and then pouted dramatically into his lunch. “Otabek, tell Yurio I was only joking!” Otabek only scowled as he also left the room.

He found Yuri sitting on a bench in the locker room down the corridor, hunched over and angrily swiping through his phone, still grumbling under his breath. 

“Hey,” he said simply, taking a seat next to Yuri and bumping their shoulders together lightly. “We were kidding around. So was he. It’s not that serious.”

“Fuck, I know,” Yuri grumbled, his jaw still clenched angrily. “I just wish the old geezer would mind his own damn business.” He sat up, took a deep breath, and leaned against Otabek’s side. “I’m sorry, Beka.”

Otabek shook his head wordlessly and put one arm loosely around Yuri’s shoulders. He knew perfectly well why Victor’s teasing had upset Yuri more than usual. They sat like that for a few minutes before there was a knock at the door. “Yurio?” A voice called out from the corridor. “Otabek?” 

“What do you want, katsudon?” Yuri shouted back, and Yuuri appeared in the doorway. 

“Um, well, Victor says he’s sorry. He didn’t think you would be that upset. And if the two of you want to leave, it’s all right with everybody. Yakov is mad at Victor for pissing you off and says Lilia will work with you on the body positioning for your step sequence tomorrow.” Yuuri, showing much better judgement than his wayward husband, left without waiting for any kind of response. 

“I’m fine with that if you are,” Otabek said, and Yuri nodded his agreement. 

\--

Yuri had to take care of his cat when they returned to the apartment, so Otabek laid down on the couch - which wasn’t that uncomfortable, he thought to himself - to take a quick nap. He had no idea how much sleep he’d had the previous night, but it wasn’t enough. He was rather abruptly awakened some time later by Yuri unceremoniously laying down practically on top of him. 

“Beka,” Yuri practically whined into his ear, “wake up!”

“You really are a cat.” Otabek’s voice was groggy from sleep as he forced his eyes open. The weight of Yuri’s slim body on him wasn’t unwelcome, but he wouldn’t have minded napping a bit longer. “Get up for a second,” he said, and when Yuri obeyed, he rolled slightly so that he was on his side with his back against the couch. 

“I was perfectly comfortable on top of you.” Yuri fake-pouted, but laid back down on his side as well, facing Otabek on the narrow cushions. 

“I have no doubt of that, but this is better.” Otabek wrapped both arms around Yuri and pulled him close, and he couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on his face when Yuri snuggled up to him and nuzzled his neck. 

“Yeah, it is.” Yuri sighed happily, filled with a feeling of ease and serenity he thought he could definitely get used to. Otabek smelled like pine needles and sandalwood and still a little like his cheap drugstore brand aftershave, but Yuri could forgive that part. _This is even better than making out_ , he thought, wishing that they could just never move again. 

Of course, that wasn’t possible. Otabek had to go home in the morning. They still lived thousands of kilometers away from each other. The competition season would keep them both busy until well into the following year. That series of sobering thoughts brought Yuri’s contented mood crashing back down to reality. 

Otabek noticed the change in body language when Yuri tensed up and almost seemed to burrow against his chest. “What’s wrong?” He gently stroked Yuri’s hair, playing with the ends between his fingers. 

Yuri tilted his head up so that they were face to face. “It just hit me that you have to leave tomorrow,” he admitted, “and that pretty much sucks, is all.” He closed his eyes as Otabek placed soft, lingering kisses to his forehead, and then each of his cheeks, and then finally his lips. 

“Yeah. It does,” Otabek said quietly, their foreheads pressed together after the kiss. “We’ll make it work. Being apart will always suck, but it will all be worth it.” That was one thing he was absolutely certain of. 

Yuri considered that _,_ while his heart seemed like it was about to burst with the ridiculous amount of emotions he was feeling. Otabek was right, it would be worth it when they won medals together and then celebrated together afterwards. It would be worth it when they could sneak visits like this in between training and on the off season. It would be worth it when, after fantastically extraordinary record-breaking competitive careers, they could retire together. The fact that he was even thinking that shocked him, but it was so clear in his mind - that was what he wanted, no matter how long he had to wait for it. 

 _Does this make us boyfriends now?_ is what he wanted to say next. “I think I love you, Beka,” is what actually came out of his mouth. His eyes went wide, face flushing hot, when he realized what he’d just said. Otabek’s shocked expression was similarly wide-eyed, his eyebrows raised so high they could have been in his hairline.

“Yura, you don’t have to say that,” he said weakly, desperately wanting to reply in kind. “Not if you’re not sure.” _Please be sure,_ a thought shot through his mind, _I might die if you take this back._

“I know I don’t have to say it.” Yuri took a deep breath, his heart beating in his throat. “I didn’t really intend to say it. But I wanted to. And I meant it.” He brought his hands up from Otabek’s chest to cup his face, a little awkward in the position they were in, and kissed him firmly. Yuri hadn’t initiated any of their kisses up to then, but once he finally did, he couldn’t have been happier. 

At least, not until Otabek kissed his way up Yuri’s jaw and whispered “I love you too, Yura,” into his ear.


	11. Epilogue Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... uh... yeah. this is where the rating goes up? I apologize in advance for my horrible smut writing skills.

The months between Otabek’s visit to St. Petersburg and the Cup of China went by in a whirlwind of training, practice, and borderline dirty texts, Snapchats, and Instagram posts. 

The first exchange had been only a couple of weeks after Otabek returned to Almaty. Yuri posted an image to Instagram of himself leaning against the headboard of his bed, wearing a thin, tightly fitted white t-shirt, with half-lidded eyes and tongue stuck slightly out, licking his lips. Black liner and mascara accented his eyes, and his hair sparkled as though there was glitter stuck in it. _Feeling lonely tonight. Anyone want to join me?_ The caption read, and the comments were filled with crazy comments from his fans. Otabek thanked every god in the universe that he had not been tagged in it, especially when he received a DM from Yuri that read _fyi, i wouldn’t want anyone but you._

The following Friday night, Otabek had a DJ gig. While he was spinning, he snapped a selfie wearing his headphones and a see through mesh tank top, and posted that to Instagram. It took him a while to think of an appropriate caption, but he finally settled on _anybody looking for a dance partner?_ The replies made it evident that he had some crazy fans too. Who knew? Yuri liked the photo shortly after he posted it. 

A week later, Otabek was on his way home from practice one day when his phone went off with a Snapchat alert. When he opened the message, it was a video snap of Yuri doing a backbend in a pair of practically translucent ballet tights and nothing else. He nearly dropped his phone. _Who the hell recorded this?_ He wondered, bewildered. He couldn’t imagine Yuri asking anyone to help him with that, but it was definitely not self-taken. _Maybe Mila?_

The next day at the gym, Otabek asked his friend Arman to record a snap of himself, shirtless, bench pressing what was virtually Yuri’s entire body weight. He was fairly certain Arman thought he was crazy. He was completely certain that everyone he knew would hear about it within hours. He was right - his friends teased him mercilessly for weeks. 

It was the following week before Yuri sent any kind of response, and it was a regular text message. It was a selfie taken in his bathroom mirror, hair wet, a towel wrapped low around his hips. _call me a little later? not skype, just on the phone_ were the accompanying words. That was an odd request, Otabek thought, but he was fine with it. _just let me know when,_ he responded. 

_now is good,_ read the message Otabek got that evening as he was laying in bed. He called Yuri’s number.

“Hey.” Yuri sounded softer, breathier than usual, and Otabek felt his heart rate speed up immediately.

“Hey. What’s the occasion?” If his first assumption here was right, Yuri was pushing boundaries here, and he didn’t want to assume anything.

“Nothing special. Just thinking about you, all day.” Yuri’s voice caught in his throat. “It’s been distracting... I was hoping maybe you could just... talk to me.” Otabek could hear the rustling of bedsheets through the phone line. 

_Fuck,_ he thought, and replied, “I can do that,” hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. “About anything in particular?” He wasn’t sure he was going to survive this. 

“Jesus, Beka, I want you to help me get off.” Yuri sounded a bit flustered, but his words went right to Otabek’s rapidly hardening dick. “How much clearer do I need to be? I want you to tell me... Things you want to do to me.” 

“Okay.” Otabek cleared his throat, balancing the phone against his shoulder so he could push his pajama bottoms down past his hips. “Tell me, are you touching yourself?” He felt off-balance, unsure, but if this was what Yuri wanted, he would do it, gladly. The fact that he was already incredibly turned on didn’t hurt the situation. 

“Yes.” A moment later, “and I... I wish it was you touching me...” 

“I’m wishing the same thing.” Otabek murmured, exhaling as he wrapped his free hand around himself and began stroking. “I want to kiss that beautiful, sexy mouth of yours...” It was almost embarrassing how fast he was getting into this, but the mental picture of Yuri spread out on his bed, jerking himself off, was a hell of an influence. “Would you want me on top of you, Yura, rubbing our bodies together while I kiss you?”

“Yes, Beka... I want to feel you everywhere.” Yuri was panting and gasping into the phone, getting louder.

“Good. Once it was driving us both crazy, just touching, I would start to kiss your neck, up to the the spot under your ear that you liked so much before...” Otabek continued, eyes closed, squeezing his dick firmly. The way Yuri said his name was almost enough to get him off just on its own. “I would kiss my way down to your chest, your stomach...” 

Yuri moaned more forcefully at that. “Please...”

“I would tease you first, before I suck you, I... I would lick the head of your cock, then up and down, before I finally started...” Otabek was panting himself at that point. “I want to make you feel so good, Yura.”

“You are,” Yuri gasped, “I’m going to come...” 

A low growling sound escaped Otabek’s throat, and he stroked himself faster, twisting his fist over the head of his dick with each stroke. “I want to hear you... I bet you’re so beautiful right now. I’d love to look up at your face while you come in my mouth...” He had absolutely no idea where these words were coming from and he didn’t care, not when Yuri was making little sobbing moans into his ear through the phone, clearly in the throes of orgasm. He let his head fall back, eyes closed, fire coursing through his veins as he approached his own climax. 

“Did you come too, Beka?” Yuri sounded breathless, and Otabek imagined his face flushed red, lips swollen from kissing and biting, hair damp with sweat.

“Fuck, almost,” he panted, arching his hips up against his own hand. This was probably the most intense masturbatory experience of his life.

“You like my mouth so much, would you let me suck you too?” Yuri asked, fake-innocent, and the words were all Otabek needed to come all over himself, groaning loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He could hear the self-satisfied smirk in Yuri’s voice, even through the haze of coming down from orgasm. 

“Send me a picture?” Otabek requested, still breathing hard. “I want to see what your face looks like right after you come.”

“Only if you send me one too. Love you.” 

“Deal. Love you too.” 

Shortly after the call ended, Otabek’s phone chimed with a Snapchat notification. It was an image of Yuri from the hips up, naked in his bed. It was just as he’d imagined, except better. Yuri’s chest and neck were still flushed red from his climax, and there were a few streaks of cum smeared across his tight abs. He refrained from taking a screenshot - having that on his phone permanently was asking for trouble - and, as promised, took a similar snap and sent it back. 

\--

The next morning, Otabek woke up feeling inexplicably guilty. It was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d crossed some kind of line. Yuri had asked for what he wanted, but he hadn’t asked for Otabek to be that explicit. He fished his phone out from under the rumpled bedsheets and quickly composed a text message. 

_I’m sorry for being so dirty last night, I don’t know where that came from._

The reply - _fuck, beka, don’t apologize -_ came earlier than Otabek expected. He hadn’t even left for practice yet - how early was Yuri awake? A second text came shortly after - _i wanted it, it was hot -_ and then a third - _maybe next time on skype?_

_Okay,_ he typed back. _I’d like that. If you want to._ When the next message chimed on his phone, he read it several times, his brain failing to comprehend the words.

_i want to be prepared for seeing your dick in person_


	12. Epilogue part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part sort of came out of some internet drama - it wasn't actually part of the plot I planned. I promise the story is going to be over once I get them to China!

The first time they had Skype sex, Yuri was astonished at the size of Otabek’s dick. It took him so long to stop staring and say something that Otabek had thought his computer was frozen. 

“Holy shit, Beka, it’s fucking huge.”

“It’s not that big.” Otabek had blushed and tried halfheartedly to cover himself in a way that Yuri found absolutely adorable.

“Fuck yes, it is. I know how big your hands are and that’s gigantic.” 

Once he’d gotten over the shock, it had been fucking hot. Yuri could count the experience of seeing Otabek’s muscular body in all its glory as one of the top experiences of his life, even if it was over a crappy webcam. The whole experience was different from the phone sex, and Yuri liked it better. He was slightly self conscious at first as Otabek’s eyes roved hungrily over his body, but he got over that quickly when he saw how much it turned the other man on. The flush that spread over Otabek’s tan skin as he worked himself with one hand made Yuri want to lick every inch of his body, especially when he noticed that licking his lips made that big cock jump in Otabek’s hand each time he did it. _He really does like my mouth,_ Yuri thought, feeling dazed and a little high.

After they ended the call and Yuri was laying in bed trying to fall asleep, one thought kept coming to the forefront of his mind.

_How the hell am I supposed to do ANYTHING to a dick that big?_ He kept wondering. A handjob, fine, he could probably manage that, but he had no idea how he’d ever get that thing in his mouth. _And how would it fit if we ever get to having actual sex?_ They probably wouldn’t do that anytime soon, so he had time to figure that part out, but he definitely wanted to suck Otabek off.

Yuri thought briefly about googling it, but he quickly realized that “how do I suck my boyfriend’s huge dick” was probably not going to get any results other than porn. That might be helpful somewhere down the line but it was unlikely to provide any of the basic information he was looking for, like how to avoid choking. 

Finally, he got an idea, and he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and opened up his text messages. Thankfully, he still had the number for the person he was thinking of. 

**_hey chris it’s yuri p, i need to ask you something and if you tell victor i’ll fucking kill you_ **

_Ah, little Yuri. Good to see you haven’t changed since I retired. What’s so important that you need to interrupt my evening with my sexy husband?_

**_i figured you know more about dick than anybody_ **

_That’s probably true, and this is already more interesting than I expected. Please continue._

**_how the hell do you blow a guy with a huge dick???_ **

_The same way you blow a guy with any other kind of dick, just more carefully. Who are we talking about here?_

**_none of your damn business, and that doesn’t help me at all_ **

_So you want to blow some mystery man who has a huge dick but you’ve never given a blowjob before? In that case, little kitten, the answer is practice._

**_how the fuck do i practice something like that_ **

_Innocence is so beautiful. Go buy a dildo, I’m sure you can find one that’s close to the size of this guy’s dick. And if you plan to put it in your ass at any point ever, get one with a flared-out base. Safety first!_

**_i don’t even want to know what the hell you’re talking about but thanks_ **

_Anytime. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was planning on blowing some pretty good-sized dick tonight myself._

Yuri had not needed to know the contents of that last message, but at least Chris had given him some advice. Now he just had to figure out where and how to buy a thing like that. Thankfully, the internet was reasonably helpful on that front, and within a half-hour he’d managed to order something that looked like it would be useful. 


	13. Epilogue part 3

In the weeks leading up to the competition, Yuri frequently lamented the fact that both he and Otabek were too busy with their respective preparations to have much time to talk - or do anything else - on the phone or on Skype. Between the time difference and the sheer amount of things they both had to do, it just wasn’t feasible. 

However, Yuri managed to occupy himself in other ways. Who knew there were so many YouTube tutorials on how to give blowjobs? He’d thrown himself into his “after-hours practice” with as much determination as he did everything else and he was pretty damn pleased with the results. The first few times he’d experimented with the toy, it had not been attractive, and he was very glad he’d gotten past the gagging, eyes watering, runny nose stages on his own. He would have been mortified for Otabek to see him like that when it was supposed to be sexy. 

Part of him wanted to share what he was doing with Otabek, just a casual mention - preferably on one of their rare Skype chats so Yuri could see the shocked expression on his face. Maybe even give a demonstration. But no, he eventually decided, it would be better as a surprise. 

Instead, he sent suggestive Snapchats. Nothing that would get Otabek in trouble if he happened to look at them in public, of course, although they’d probably raise questions. 

First, there was a rather benign short video of himself messily licking an obnoxious-sized lollipop, which he didn’t actually finish after sending the snap because there was entirely too much sugar in it. 

A few days later, he sent another short video taken while he was sucking on a red popsicle, which stained his lips in a way he was sure Otabek would like, while staring directly into the camera. 

After that, he opted to send a picture taken with his head tilted slightly back, a cherry resting on his tongue between his lips, the stem held between two fingers. That one finally solicited a response - a photo of Otabek’s sizable erection shrouded in flimsy grey gym shorts, captioned _subtle as a freight train, yura._

Whoever said social media was useless had never been in a long distance relationship. 

\--

Yuri stepped off the plane in China practically vibrating with excitement. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and slipped on a pair of sunglasses - he had an image to maintain, after all. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he dragged his carry-on up the jetway and snapped a selfie to post to Instagram, captioning it _ready to kick ass and take names at #cupofchina this weekend._ He grinned despite himself when Otabek liked the post a moment later. The lucky bastard’s flight had wifi - he’d had to stare out the window for eight hours while Yakov lectured him about the competition and Lilia slept through the whole thing, having had the right idea to take a sleeping pill prior to take-off. 

When he finally reached his hotel room, he flopped down on the bed and took his phone back out to glance at the time. It was only two o’clock. The text he had received that morning from Otabek had read _Expecting to be wheels down around 1430 Beijing time._ Yuri sighed dramatically and flung one arm up over his face. It would still be a while before Otabek reached the hotel - even after landing, baggage claim and customs and transit time would all be a bitch. He wasn’t tired enough to take a nap, and that was a stupid way to deal with flying across multiple time zones anyway. After several minutes of laying there being bored, he unlocked his phone again to scroll through his social media feeds. 

Twitter was the same old thing, tons of mentions from his fans wishing him good luck at the upcoming competition. Victor had posted a Snapchat story of Katsudon’s practice skating, since he’d be competing in different qualifiers. Instagram was the usual mix of fashion and cat photos, but there was a minutes-old post of Otabek’s that was a selfie of him and his coach in their airline seats, giving a thumbs-up. _Onwards and upwards to another Grand Prix series!_ was the caption. Yuri hit ‘like’ on the image immediately and opened up his direct messages.

 _i’m bored, why aren’t you here yet??_  

**_I’m not sure if you’re asking me to explain the physics of air travel or just how time works._ **

_if you’re thinking about stand up comedy as a career you might want to reconsider_

**_You wound me, Yura. I may never recover._ **

_ugh i give up on this conversation, i’m just going to watch tv i don’t understand until you get here_

**_That sounds like a solid plan. I have to turn my phone off soon for landing anyway._ **

_i’m in room 4906, get here asap_

**_Of course. Wouldn’t want you to die of boredom._ **

Yuri sighed again and squirmed his way up the bed so he could grab the remote control off the nightstand. There had to be something on that was either in English language or at least subtitled. He finally found some stupid Chinese soap opera with English subtitles and tried to switch his mind off. It didn’t work - he couldn’t stop thinking about Otabek. Something in the back of his mind told him he should also be thinking about the competition, but he was so far beyond worrying about qualifiers at this point in his career that it just seemed ridiculous. So, yeah, okay, he had to skate this weekend. Big fucking deal, he skated literally all the goddamn time. He was also finally going to get to see his boyfriend - even thinking the word blew his mind a little - naked, and they were going to _do stuff._ For real, not through a webcam, which blew his mind even more. The nervous anticipation was giving him butterflies in his stomach. How was this even supposed to go? Rather like their first kiss, he kind of wanted to just get it out of the way so he could be less anxious about it going forward. 

 _Should I just drag him into be as soon as he gets here_? Yuri wondered. They hadn’t really discussed this, beyond vague innuendo that _something_ was going to happen. _Ugh, he’ll probably want to talk about it first, set boundaries and shit._ As much as he appreciated Otabek’s deferential respect for what he wanted, it would be so much easier if he didn’t have to think so damn much about all of that. 

Finally, Yuri got up from the bed, TV still blaring in the background, to unpack some of his stuff. He usually lived out of suitcases while traveling, but he’d at least need his toiletries out, and it was something to do to pass the time. After he was done filling the bathroom with the plethora of grooming products he’d brought along, he resigned himself to watching television in a language he didn’t understand. Some time later, he’d zoned out so thoroughly that the text alert tone on his phone shocked him. 

The message was from Otabek. _Just checked in to the hotel. I’ll drop my things off in my room, take a quick shower, and come over._

Yuri rolled his eyes, exasperated. He would never understand Otabek’s obsessive need to shower after traveling. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He chewed his lip lightly, contemplating it for a moment, before typing out a reply.

_or you could just come over here now and we could shower together_

The messaging dots came up, then disappeared. Yuri grinned, pleased with himself, imagining Otabek’s flustered reaction. Being able to throw him off like that had quickly become one of Yuri’s favorite things in their relationship. 

A minute later, the dots returned, and a message appeared. _You just made me choke on water in a crowded elevator._ It was quickly followed by another. _See you in a minute._

A very short time later, there was a knock at the door, and Yuri practically jumped up to answer it, heart pounding in his throat. _Pull it the fuck together,_ he told himself sharply, _desperation is not sexy._

He opened the door to the sight of Otabek, half-empty bottle of water in one hand, the front of his nylon jacket obviously wet with the rest of it. Yuri couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing.” The corners of Otabek’s lips turned up in a small smile, and he pulled his luggage into the room and let the door fall shut behind him. “You know, I’m eventually going to have to explain to my coach why I just ditched him in an elevator.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you think of something,” Yuri replied playfully, putting his arms around Otabek’s neck to kiss him, tentative at first, gradually becoming more heated as their lips parted and their tongues tasted each other. After a few moments, Otabek’s hands came to rest on Yuri’s hips, and then slid his t-shirt up slightly to touch bare skin at his waist, making him feel giddy and light-headed with desire, his pulse racing. 

“God, I missed you.” Otabek was panting slightly between kisses as they tapered off. “All of your flirty pictures were hot, but the real thing is so much better.” Yuri grinned and nuzzled his neck affectionately in response.

“I missed you too, Beka.” 

After a moment longer sharing their intimate embrace, they finally opted to move out of the entryway of Yuri’s hotel room so Otabek could take off his damp jacket and the backpack he was carrying. Yuri perched on the edge of the bed, watching as he did so.  

“You know, you’re going to need to take off more clothes than that if we’re getting in the shower,” he remarked, faux-casually. 

Otabek regarded him curiously for a moment before asking, “Is that something you actually wanted to do, or was the suggestion just meant to grab my attention?” He had assumed the latter, but he was more than willing to go along with the former. 

“Both?” Yuri shrugged, a smirk on his face. “It wasn’t, like, a plan or anything, but I want to get naked with you and it’s as good an excuse as any.” 

Otabek ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath as he considered that. “I want to get naked with you too, but I’m not all that interested in having to give a statement about why one or both of us can’t skate this weekend because we hurt ourselves trying to have sex in a shower.”

“So, you don’t pick me up and fuck me against the wall,” Yuri replied, an amused tone to his voice. “We can make out and jerk each other off and maybe I can finally get to suck your dick. It’s not rocket science.” He couldn’t stop himself from blushing a bit as the frank words came from his mouth.

“You have no shame, do you?” Otabek chuckled, even as the straightforward description of what Yuri wanted to do made his half-hard dick twitch in his jeans. “It’s hard to believe you didn’t know what you wanted a few months ago.” 

“Well, I do now. After I figured out the stupid fucking feelings part, the rest of it pretty much fell into place. So are we doing this or what?” Yuri got up from the end of the bed and yanked his t-shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor before taking a step forward and planting another kiss on Otabek’s lips. After it was over, Otabek wordlessly toed his sneakers off, and then removed his own shirt as Yuri led him into the bathroom. 

Without bothering to shut the door, Yuri dropped his jeans and briefs to the floor in one motion, and leaned into the shower to turn on the water and adjust it to a decent temperature. When he turned back around, Otabek hadn’t removed any more clothes, apparently having been too distracted staring at his ass. 

“Hey, clothes off, Beka, unless you want to just look at me all day.”

“I’d be fine with that,” Otabek replied faintly, dazed by the sight as he looked Yuri’s body up and down appreciatively. The expanse of milky skin revealed to him was the most alluring thing he’d ever seen, and he felt blessed to be the person Yuri trusted to see him like this, to want him like this. “You’re beautiful.”

Yuri rolled his eyes - he didn’t actually mind the dumb romantic shit like that anymore, but it was so not the time - and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. That shook Otabek from his reverie and prompted him to finally shed the rest of his clothes. Yuri was already standing under the hot spray of water, letting it soak his hair and run down over his body, when Otabek stepped in behind him and put both arms around his waist to pull their bodies together. He kissed and lightly sucked at the side of Yuri’s neck, which drew a soft moan from that beautiful mouth he absolutely adored. 

“I want to wash your hair, Yura, is that okay?” He murmured against the shell of Yuri’s ear, and Yuri twisted around in his arms to gape at him incredulously. 

“Seriously, that’s what you want to do right now?” Yuri’s voice was dripping with disbelief. _This sappy idiot has his dick pressed against my ass and he wants to wash my fucking hair?_

“Yes,” Otabek replied simply, and dropped another quick kiss on Yuri’s lips. “Which shampoo?” There were three different bottles on the little ledge in the shower and he wasn’t about to guess what was what. 

“Only one of those is shampoo, you philistine,” Yuri grumbled, but he plucked the correct bottle from the shelf and handed it over. 

Otabek had to take a small step back from under the spray of the shower to squirt some of the bottle’s contents into his hands. He slowly lathered the substance into Yuri’s blond locks, enjoying the feel of the soft strands slipping through his fingers. Despite Yuri’s initial indifference to the idea, he was practically purring by the time Otabek was done massaging the citrus-scented shampoo into his hair and scalp.  Without comment, he gently nudged Yuri forward back under the spray to rinse it out. 

“Any of this stuff conditioner or something?” He asked, and Yuri wordlessly handed him another of the bottles and sighed happily as he began to finger-comb the slick substance through the ends of Yuri’s hair. 

Yuri had never actually imagined that having another person wash his hair could be erotic, but the gentle ministrations of Otabek’s strong hands were simultaneously extremely relaxing and also a huge turn-on. He felt almost blissful enough to fall asleep, if not for his insistent erection throbbing with arousal. Once Otabek was done applying and then rinsing out the conditioner, Yuri turned around so they were face-to-face and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry, pressing their bodies together. 

 “Ok, so now that we’re done with your weird hair kink,” he murmured against Otabek’s lips, “can we fucking get off yet?” He punctuated the question with a roll of his hips that slid their hard dicks against each other.  

“Yes,” Otabek practically growled, and reached down to grab Yuri’s ass and pulled him closer to repeat the motion, and Yuri moaned desperately into his mouth and grabbed frantically at his back and shoulders as though he was looking to ground himself. 

“Fuck, Beka,” he panted between kisses as they moved against each other. The sensations he was experiencing were overwhelming in the best possible ways - Otabek’s hard body against him, the friction of skin on skin under the hot spray of the water. Eventually, however, he remembered what he had actually wanted to do, and pulled away slightly. “Stop for a second,” he panted, “I want to suck you off, remember?” 

Otabek groaned, low in his throat, still gripping Yuri’s hips. “I know you want to do that, with all your damned teasing about it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You’ll hurt your knees, and I don’t trust mine not to give out.” He pulled Yuri flush against his body again. “I want it, believe me,” he stressed the words, “but next time, all right? In bed, properly.” 

 Yuri rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine. Can I at least touch your dick or are you afraid I’ll give myself carpal tunnel syndrome?”

“As long as I can do the same to you.” Otabek inhaled sharply as Yuri’s hand wrapped around his erection and stroked the full length of it, almost experimentally. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Yuri purred into his ear, and he moaned weakly in response, bringing one of his hands between their bodies as well to take him up on that. Conversation ceased then as their mouths came together again, shared passion contributing to the sensory overload as they thrust against each other’s bodies, hands gripping and stroking heated flesh. 

Yuri came first, a fact he would have been embarrassed about if it hadn’t felt _so fucking good_ , making him cry out with abandon against Otabek’s shoulder. The older man reached his own climax moments later, cock twitching in Yuri’s hand while he chanted his lover’s name almost like a prayer. 

Afterwards, when they’d washed up for real and Yuri had painstakingly dried and combed his hair, they opted to lounge in the large bed, not bothering to dress in more than the hotel’s fluffy white towels. As far as Yuri was concerned, the addition of room service for dinner so they didn’t have to go outside meant that the situation was pretty much the equivalent of heaven. 

Otabek wasn’t sure the scandalized young hotel employee who delivered their food was as thrilled as he was to see Yuri answer the door wearing nothing but a towel, though. 


	14. Epilogue part 4

Competitions always came and went like a whirlwind for Yuri. Between warm-ups and practice sessions and actually competing, all of which he attacked with a laser-like focus, not to mention the media and press interviews, which he merely tolerated, he never really had a lot of time to do much else. 

His own short program went brilliantly, but he was certain that his jaw was on the floor while he watched Otabek’s performance. The music had been tweaked a little bit from the track he’d played for Yuri on his visit over the summer, but it suited his style of movement perfectly, and while it seemed almost like he was skating two different routines meshed into one, it blended together in a way that was unlike anything Yuri could remember seeing before. His eyes went wide with shock when Otabek landed the quad Lutz jump in the back half of the program, along with the difficult execution of the triple axel he knew Otabek had been working on. 

 _that was fucking incredible_ was the text message he tapped out on his phone while Otabek was still in the kiss and cry waiting for his score. _i guess i’m going to have to up my game to beat you this year._ That was confirmed when the scores came up - the routine was a personal best for Otabek and several points higher than Yuri’s own short program score. 

A couple of hours later, after social media was thoroughly flooded with photos and videos of Yuri’s reactions to watching Otabek’s skating, he finally received a message back. _I’m counting on that._

When it came time for the free skate, the scores dictated that Yuri would compete second to last. He had worked his ass off with Victor and Lilia to help refine the choreography for the routine, and the technical difficulty was high and catered to his strengths. The resulting score wasn’t the best he’d ever achieved, but for a competition so early in the season, he was more than happy with it.  

Otabek was taking the ice as Yuri exited the kiss and cry area. He knew perfectly well that he was expected to go answer media questions, but he stopped by the boards to watch anyway. Yakov noticed he was lagging behind and turned around to glare at him.

“You have other things to do, you know.”

“Nobody’s going to die if I take four minutes to watch this,” Yuri grumbled in response, not moving.

Yakov sighed audibly, shaking his head. “Whatever is going on, I only hope you’re able to exhibit greater discretion than Vitya ever did.” He walked away then, leaving Yuri alone as Otabek’s music began.

In comparison to the short program, Yuri thought the free skate was a bit closer to how he was used to seeing Otabek perform, at least at first. The music was a bold, operatic piece that complemented the strength and power he was capable of exhibiting, but the melody held an undertone of sadness, almost longing. That melody came to the forefront as Otabek ran through a complex choreographic sequence, and the beauty of it made Yuri’s breath catch in his throat. He watched, enraptured, while the music returned to a stunning crescendo and Otabek finished the program with an impressively difficult jump sequence and struck his final pose, chest heaving with the effort. 

Yuri applauded along with the rest of the enthusiastic crowd, and as Otabek turned to exit the ice, their eyes met and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small, discreet smile. Yuri grinned back and gave a thumbs-up. If he was going to lose this one, at least it would be to someone who did well enough to deserve it.

His intuition was correct - Otabek’s free skate score was another personal best and put him at the top of the rankings. 

After the obligatory interviews and the medals ceremony, Yuri found himself seated next to Otabek at the formal post-event press conference, which wasn’t a favorite activity for either of them. The questions droned on, all the usual things, and Yuri could hardly wait to be free of it. Finally, one of the reporters asked a question that he at least cared about the answer to. 

“And for Mr. Altin, you’ve set a high bar for yourself this season. Could you elaborate on the work that went into the programs that you’ve put together?”

Otabek cleared his throat. “Well, my short program is mostly of my own design, including the composition of the music. I consider myself a rather traditional person but aspire to adapt to change, and the struggle of doing so is what I intended to convey.”

“And your free skate?”

“I found the free program more difficult to prepare," Otabek admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “My coach and I began working on it some time ago, and I’ve had a lot of trouble getting it right. The story of the music is one’s journey through life, feeling sure of their path, before realizing that something important is missing, and then ultimately finding it.” He paused for another moment, a pensive look on his face, as though he was searching for the right words. “I suppose I was lucky in recent months to discover the inspiration that I needed in order to do it justice.” 

Yuri turned that answer over and over in his mind for the rest of the hour, certain after it was over that he hadn’t given a single coherent response to anything that had been asked of him. 

That evening, after all the media and press nonsense was over, Yuri was finally left alone in his hotel room. He texted Otabek as soon as he’d washed up and changed into the sweats he was using as pajamas.

_i’m gonna see you tonight right???_

**_I just got back from dinner with my coach. Give me a half-hour or so?_ **

_i’m setting a timer_

Yuri did not actually set a timer, but there was a knock at his hotel room door just about a half-hour later. Not a moment after the door closed, he practically tackled Otabek, kissing him enthusiastically, leaving both of them breathless at the end of it. 

“Is this going to be our thing now?” Otabek asked, amused, after Yuri released him. “Making out in the entryways of hotel rooms?”

“I can live with that if you can,” Yuri replied dryly, but led Otabek further into the actual room anyway and took a seat at the end of the bed. “You know the whole internet’s gossiping about a bunch of dumb pictures of me watching you skate?”

“I do.” Otabek sat next to him, close enough to play with the loose strands of Yuri’s hair with one hand. “I was tagged in about a hundred of them. You looked like I’d imagine I usually look watching you. People are just less obsessed with photographing me.”

“That’s their loss. You’re incredibly hot.” Yuri leaned over slightly to kiss Otabek again, nipping at his bottom lip. The side-by-side position was awkward and he climbed into Otabek’s lap instead, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, straddling his hips. “I fucking love you, Beka,” he murmured into his boyfriend’s ear, sucking at the lobe before biting gently at the skin of his neck, and Otabek moaned softly in response, gripping Yuri’s ass with both hands and pulling their bodies flush against each other.

“Love you too,” Otabek managed to reply, gasping between the words when Yuri pushed the collar of his t-shirt aside to bite and suck at his collarbone. “You’re going to leave marks,” he ground out, unwilling to say _don’t_ or _stop_. 

“So?” Yuri smirked lasciviously before going for another kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, grinding his ass down against Otabek’s crotch, feeling the growing hardness there through both of their pants. He couldn’t get enough of the exhilaration he felt from being able to make the stoic, powerful man under him gasp and moan. 

Without warning, Otabek stood up underneath him, and he yelped in surprise, wrapping his legs around Otabek’s waist and clinging to those strong shoulders. “The fuck are you doing?!” 

Otabek didn’t reply, but turned to lay both of them down on the bed, draping his solid body over Yuri’s lithe one and took his own turn at sucking and biting at Yuri’s neck as he rolled their hips together, grip still firm on Yuri’s ass. “Just getting more comfortable,” he growled against the pale skin there, and a shudder ran through Yuri’s entire body. He brought his hands up under Yuri’s t-shirt, and started to lift it. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck, yes, Beka.” Yuri helped pull his shirt off over his head, eyes dark with arousal, and it dripped from his voice in a way that made Otabek want to possess him in every way possible. “Take yours off too. Hell, take everything off.”

Otabek promptly complied, not realizing he was feeling light-headed until he had to stand up to take off his shoes, jeans, and underwear. He watched hungrily as Yuri wriggled out of the sweatpants he was wearing with nothing underneath, and eyed Yuri’s body up and down, following the expanse of his firm chest down to stare at the the flushed length of his erection twitching against one shapely thigh. 

“Are you going to stand there all night or get back over here so I can suck your dick?” Yuri demanded impatiently, staring back at Otabek with equal fervor, equal parts horny and anxious with anticipation. 

“I’m not complaining, but you know I don’t understand your obsession with sucking my dick, right?” Otabek asked as he laid back down on the bed, and Yuri immediately jumped on him, gripping the topic of discussion in one hand and stroking the full length firmly. 

“Your dick is fucking magnificent,” Yuri replied, watching Otabek’s head fall back against the pillows and enjoying the little sounds that came from his mouth. “I could write an epic poem about your dick.” He sucked a bright red mark onto the broad, tanned chest underneath him, feeling oddly satisfied as he took note note of the way the other man’s hands clenched in the bed covers. 

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek groaned. His pulse rushed through his veins, feeling like every nerve ending in his body was on fire. “Whatever it is that you want to do, get on with it already.” 

Yuri took a deep breath, a stupid grin on his face, and began to kiss his way down Otabek’s torso. This was what he had been waiting for and he was damned sure going to make it good. He hesitated briefly when he finally reached the sizable erection, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on Otabek’s hips before sliding his lips over the straining flesh.

Otabek shouted wordlessly as Yuri’s mouth descended on him, lost in the warmth and wetness of the sensations. His hips would have come off the mattress if not for Yuri holding him down. “Oh, fuck, Yura,” he moaned as Yuri’s mouth sank further down on him, one hand tangling mindlessly in the other man’s long blond hair. 

Yuri hummed softly, pleased at the reaction, and squeezed one hand around the base of Otabek’s cock, still working the head with his lips and tongue. He licked at the sensitive spot under the head, earning more unrestrained moans from his partner, and ran his tongue over the slit, already leaking bitter, salty fluid. Then he sucked firmly, cheeks hollowing out, going further down as Otabek writhed below him. Finally, he arched his neck just so, sucking Otabek all the way down his throat, feeling ridiculously triumphant with his nose buried in the coarse black hair of the other man’s groin. 

Otabek was sure he was going to pass out. One of his hands was clutching the sheets in a death grip, the other clutching Yuri’s hair as gently as he could manage, while he tried with all his might to resist the urge to thrust up into that hot, beautiful mouth wrapped around his cock. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, fighting for any measure of control over his traitorous body. 

Yuri pulled back just far enough to take a breath, spurred on by the reaction, before sucking him all the way back down again. Emboldened, he brought one hand from Otabek’s hip down to play with the man’s balls, already drawn up firmly against his body. He moved up and down on the hard cock in his mouth, alternating between licking and sucking and then moving back down to swallow around it, firmly buried in his throat. 

Far too soon for Otabek’s liking, he could feel the telltale tightening in his lower abdomen that signaled his impending orgasm. “I’m going to come,” he gasped, and Yuri moaned softly against him, around him, making no move whatsoever to pull away. 

Yuri finally did let up just enough that Otabek came in his mouth instead of down his throat - something that Youtube had told him made it easier - and was able to swallow most of the evidence of Otabek’s climax. That wasn’t a part that he’d been able to practice, obviously, but he managed it well enough, or at least he thought so. His own erection between his legs was an afterthought at that point, he was so pleased at being able to make his boyfriend come with just the ministrations of his mouth. 

After it was over, he kissed his way back up the firm, tanned body before him and curled himself against him, content to cuddle for a bit while Otabek came back to himself. 

“Fucking hell, Yura,” Otabek murmured after a short time, still breathing hard, feeling almost as though his very soul had left his body. 

Yuri made a pleased sound against his boyfriend’s neck, feeling ridiculously self-satisfied. “It was good?”

“It was amazing.” Otabek kissed him deeply, without regard for the taste of himself in Yuri’s mouth. “How in the hell did you figure out how to do that?”

Yuri smirked. “Who would have thought I finally learned something useful on the internet?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done I can't believe it?


End file.
